Best Kept Secrets
by azure-tears
Summary: [2nd of two theories] Mac's father walked out on them five years ago...and he's back one last time.


Disclaimer: I suppose I ought to credit Mr. Baka for semi giving me this idea. You see, I started a Foster's quiz on DA and the last question was what happened to Mac and Terrence's father. In "Blameless", I explored the possibility he died. This is one muses on whether Mac's father walked out. (I discussed this with Mr. Baka).

Foster's Home does not belong to me and new episode at seven on Cartoon Network for all you US readers!

**Best Kept Secrets**

Mac had never seen Terrence so pale. The raven haired boy gasped, locked the door, and then slid down the floor. Silence passed as his sibling's gaze swept him and he buried his hand in his scraggly hair. Books lay open on the living room table and Mac's fingers twisted and manipulated the pencil in his hands. No one spoke and the only sound in the apartment was their breathing.

"What's the matter?" Mac said finally, gently placing his pencil aside. Math problems could wait.

"Dad," Terrence replied simply and stumbled to his feet. Mute, he shuffled off to his room. This time, silence threatened to become oppressive and suffocate them both. Mac slid out of his chair and eased it back to the table. He couldn't let the subject pass like that.

Years ago, around the time Bloo was created, their father had a fall out with their mother. Though it was five years ago, Mac remembered it. That was the thing with horrid memories- they tended to linger despite your best effects to extract them. He'd run into his bedroom and cradled a stuffed animal until the dreadful conclusion with a slammed door and his mother's weeping. Its finality had hung in the air for days. Bewildered and miserable, Mac had created Bloo to alleviate the tension.

Despite the carpet covering the hall, he was certain his footsteps echoed. Cautiously, aware he was entering "enemy territory"; he poked his head into his room. The raven haired boy rolled over onto his side and stared listlessly at his dangling arm. Charily, Mac sidestepped any obstructions and halted at the back of his bed. Steel gray eyes pierced through him callously, but otherwise, he paid him no mind.

"What about Dad?" he murmured, feeling like they spoke of the dead. Two weeks after his disappearance, Terrence had proclaimed him dead to him anyway. Only his mother's poignant wails and her darting to her room had broken the silence then. Bloo had stared blankly, not understanding anything. Mac hadn't bothered, either.

"He's back," he replied and leaned his head on his arm. Mac crept steadily closer and watched the interplay of emotions on his face. Surprise, resentment, and upset vied for prominence.

All Mac could think of was "oh". He shuffled still closer and sat on the floor by him. As far as he knew, it was relatively clear here. Then again, when he rose, he'd probably find out it wasn't, but oh, well. He wasn't terribly concerned at the moment.

"Mom's forbidden us to see him," he continued tonelessly. A bird warbled outside, out of place with their emotions. Then again, the day itself juxtaposed them. Brilliant cerulean stretched as far as the eye could see and there wasn't a cloud in sight. The temperature was cool, but not overly so. He'd been delirious with joy playing at Foster's today, but now the good conditions served only to mock him.

"She said that he didn't want anything to do with us years ago, so why should now be any different? And if he's going to abandon us, why should we care if he's here?" Terrence growled, fury flashing. "He doesn't give a sh-"

"Where _is _he? Do you know?" Mac interrupted urgently, both because the question burned and because he loathed vulgarity. He recalled the argument well, but his father's face had faded in time. Distantly, like all children suffering a separation secretly hope, he wondered if he could convince him to come home. If not that, then in the very least, he'd be able to see him for the first time in five years.

Raising his eyebrows, he sat up and flexed his sore upper arm. Once again, silence clung to the air while Terrence gave his younger brother an appraising look. Mac rose to his full, insubstantial height and met his glance head-on. Finally, a smirk flitted across his face.

"I'm not allowed to tell you that he's at the mall-" he started in his typical fashion, but never finished. Mac was gone before he could add anything else. Terrence blinked, bewildered.

**…**

He was about three blocks from his house when he realized the mall was across the highway. Spirits plummeting, he unconsciously trod the sidewalks and streets to Foster's. An ill formed idea to convince Frankie to take him to the mall persisted. Maybe he'd luck out and she'd have to go there anyway. If not…then he'd have to find some other way to get there. He had no intention of explaining exactly what had happened five years ago, especially not with Bloo around. As far as Bloo knew, his father had died (and Terrence's raving helped that impression).

Luckily, he ran into her about to jump onto the bus. Bloo whined, moped, and generally complained until she relented and let him on. He was followed suit by Coco, Eduardo, and Wilt. The doors were just about to close when Mac banged on a window. (He wasn't stupid enough to stick his hand in the door).

"Mac!" she cried, staring at him. "Aren't you supposed to be-"

"Are you guys going to the mall?" he blurted, unable to restrain himself. Bloo bounced effervescently off the steps and flung himself at his creator's chest. Mac caught him innately, but didn't hug him back. Fortunately Bloo was oblivious.

"Yeah, we are…but what are you-"

"You have to let me come!" he demanded, agitated. Bloo stared up at him and then smirked. Utterly clueless, he thought he wanted a game or something that couldn't wait. He missed his sweaty palms and trembling arms.

"Well, sure, but aren't you supposed to be-"

"Just _go_!"

**…**

The mall was packed and Mac was quickly separated from everyone but Bloo. Mac groaned, but was inaudible over the crowds. Maybe if he veered by a video game store, Bloo would fall prey to its displays and he could sneak away unnoticed. It was cruel and underhanded, but he needed to do this alone. Bloo didn't know what was going on and he'd rather he never found out.

However, locating someone whose face he only vaguely recalled proved more difficult than originally conceived. The mall covered at least an acre of land if not more and in the middle of this madness, he might not stand a chance. He didn't even know where to start. He could be anywhere- or nowhere. Maybe he'd left since Terrence and his mother conversed. Maybe it wasn't this mall. (Though this was the only mall in town). Maybe…

"Mac, buddy, are you all right? You've been staring off into space a lot." Bloo prodded him in the ribs and Mac jumped, unwittingly growling at him. Great, exactly what he'd been shooting for- alerting Bloo to his jitteriness.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a security guard commenting loudly with a patron. All the nerves in Mac's stomach disappeared, replaced by slithering snakes. The color drained rapidly from his face and he threw all caution to the winds. Mentally apologizing profusely, he tossed his imaginary friend to the pack and cut his way through the crowd. He was fairly certain Bloo would survive the encounter; at the moment, however, he was far too preoccupied with this man who had walked out and never looked back years ago.

A bench lay feet away from his destination and he sat, wondering what to say. What could he say? He was too young to experience Terrence's bitterness, his mother's upset, or anything else. When he looked at him, a terrible ache filled his heart and tears welled up in his eyes. He was just another little kid. He wasn't special enough to keep him around.

_Maybe he walked out because I was too much. Maybe it really **was **my fault…maybe if I were better behaved or I was whatever he wanted me to be, he would have stayed around¸ _he thought, hugging his knees to his chest. A large lump formed in his throat and swallowing increased it. Waves of sorrow crashed upon the small eight year old. What was he doing here? What was the point of seeing him? Why hadn't he listened to Terrence?

A shadow loomed overhead and he lifted his head. A middle aged man with scraggly brown hair and unusual azure eyes met his gaze. Beard stubs littered his chin and his breath smelled distinctly of cigarette smoke. Bags were under his eyes and his face was as pale as his. Mac knew without asking.

"Hey, kid, you can't…" his sentence trailed off and his gaze swept Mac much like Terrence's had not twenty minutes previously. He gingerly reached out to press his hand against his cheek, but his father lightly shoved it away. Coldness drained his face of expression and he pivoted on his heel wordlessly. Mac's heart plunged headlong into his stomach and he could almost feel the acid tearing it apart.

"Wait!" Springing forth, he trotted to catch up with him. He crammed his visor further down his head and averted his gaze.

"Dad!" Mac cried, the word unfamiliar in his mouth. This was only the second time in recent history he'd uttered his name. And, as his heart shrank by the second, he felt certain it was the last. Out of the corner of his eye, a redheaded girl eased through the crowd. Mac paid her no mind.

"I have no children," his father retorted and a crowd of people wearing blue shirts carried him away. By the time Mac thought he recognized him amongst them, it was too late. He was gone.

A hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. Defensive, upset, and shocked all at once, he spun around. Frankie's jade eyes shone compassionately. If there were anything left of his heart, he thought it would have been devoured then and there. Instead, a dull throbbing commenced and he realized all those songs about heartbreak were true. When someone truly broke your heart, there was an actual, physical pain.

"Do you want an ice cream? It's on me." She offered him a weak smile he did not return. He didn't think he was going to smile for a while. Still, to delay the inevitable, he nodded. Maybe ice cream would help. If it didn't, at least forcing it down his throat would give him something else to contemplate.

**…**

Chocolate supposedly conquered the savage beast, but Mac's still roared indignantly. Frankie laid a comforting hand atop his trembling palm. The lump in his throat resurfaced, along with a leaden sensation in his stomach and a heart pang. He counted floor tiles instead of looking at her.

"You wanna talk, eat your ice cream, or watch it pool on the floor?" Frankie coaxed, rising from the booth to sit on his side. Mac fidgeted, reluctantly wrapping his mouth around the swirl. He tasted nothing.

"It's really nice that you bought this, Frankie, but…"

Outside the large glass window, a security guard leaned, occasionally scanning the perimeter. Mac choked, the lump returning in full force. Swallowing hard, he glanced up; Frankie wrapped an arm around him. Shutting his eyes, he accepted her comfort. It was a while before either spoke again and to his complete surprise, it was him.

"Dad…walked out on us three days before Bloo was created. He had an argument with my mother and told her he couldn't handle us. I never told Bloo what happened because…I'd rather he didn't know.

"Mom forbade me to come down here…"

Voice trailing into mere whispers, he proceeded to explain everything else. He didn't know why he was telling her all of this, but his heartache diminished significantly when he finished. Frankie remained blissfully silent, letting him talk himself out. The ice cream pooled onto the table, but while he was talking (he hadn't noticed), she'd mopped it up. Smiling compassionately, she slid out to allow Mac passage.

"I'd really appreciate if you didn't tell Bloo…" he murmured and she hugged him tightly.

"You can tell him when you're ready."

Nodding weakly, he let her lead him away from the ice cream shop and the past. Maybe in time he'd be ready, but he doubted it. Let him be the carefree child he couldn't. Let him exist blissfully unaware of how cruel fathers could be. Sometimes imaginary friends got all the breaks.

**…**

He watched his son walk off with the redheaded girl and gnawed his lip. Five years ago, he'd walked out on his children and though he regretted it every day in his life, he couldn't find the courage to return. Sure, he might have come back to the same town, but he hadn't even been able to talk to his younger son.

Sighing heavily, he turned his back on the past and scrutinized the surrounding area. Maybe some day, he'd be ready, but he doubted it. Let Mac and Terrence hate him. Let them go through life without having to deal with the loser father who couldn't stand raising two children. Scuffing the floor with his polished shoes, he reflected- sometimes ignorance was bliss.

**…**


End file.
